


Vagabond

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe- No Werewolves, Angst, August 25-31, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Night Stands, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Smoking, Song Lyrics, Sterek Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2201430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'What your story? What brings you to little o'l Beacon Hills?' He stared at the kid, taking a long deep drag of his cigarette. </p>
<p>He hated smoking. He wanted to quit. The smoke burned his lungs and made his clothes smell, but the nicotine let him relax. It took away all the pain of the past couple months and his life in general. And when he blew the smoke out it was like he was blowing out all his troubles. It made him forget. </p>
<p>He crushed the burnt out cigarette in the ash tray next to the bed. </p>
<p>'Nothing,' he muttered. 'I'm just a drifter.'"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vagabond

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH!! Sorry I'm nervous. Not only is this my first time doing Sterek week, this is also my first fic. I'm really excited cause I wanted to do Sterek Week so bad. I used the song [ Vagabond ](http://youtu.be/idWrRDe72a4) by MisterWives. I wanted to do a shuffle kinda thing but it's hard to write fan fics for Anaconda, Turn Down For What and Ballad of the Mona Lisa believe it or not. Yeah, I just gave up and did my own thing. Well here you go!! Excuse any grammar or just awfulness in general it's a first!

__

There you go, there you stay  
Keeping low, never wanna play  
Wandering far, disappearing  
Feet stuck in place, not moving

You've been up and down, down  
You've been low, low, low  
Troubled sea so deep, troubled home no sleep  
You've been flying so high  
Avoiding the road  
Pretending to not feel alone,  
Pretending to not feel alone.

Vagabond: A person who wanders from place to place without a home or job.

He didn't even remember meeting this boy. Never mind his name, his age, or how they even wound up in bed together. He didn't remember any of it. 

The kid was knocked out. He was curled around a pillow, sleeping contently. He left a small spot of drool on the pillow, and Derek couldn't help but think it was the most adorable thing in the world. 

Hell, he was skinny. His hair was shorn and he used his long arms to hug the pillow even tighter. His eyes moved rapidly behind his eyelids, and Derek guessed by the quiet whimpering he was making, that he was dreaming, and not a good dream. 

Derek gingerly reached out to placed a hand on the boys shoulder, unsure whether to comfort the boy or not. But as soon as his hand got close enough the kid's eyes flew open and he shot out of the bed, panting hard.

"Sorry," Derek muttered, lowering his eyes in sudden embarrassment. "I, I just thought you, you might need some comforting." He rubbed at the back of his neck. The situation was becoming increasingly awkward. 

"It's alright. Th-thanks, actually. I really appreciate that." The kid said. Derek looked up at the kid and Christ, could his eyes get any fucking larger? 

He muttered something along the lines of 'Welcome' and stood up to retrieve his things. He grabbed pants, and reached into his pocket to grab a cigarettes and his lighter. He lit it and took a long drag. God, he needed that. 

He stood there, back facing the kid. He took another deep drag and closed his eyes contently. He could feel the kids eyes watching him curiously. As if he was trying to figure him out. Trying to find out his story. 

After a minute, Derek turned around and started picking up thrown pieces of clothes and personal items. He slipped his boxers on, then his pants. The whole time he felt the kids eyes on him. What the fuck did he want? And where the fuck was his shirt? 

He spun around the motel room, or what he assumed was a motel, looking for his shirt. After a few minutes it dawned on him that the kid was wearing his shirt. He turned his glare on the boy. There was his black t-shirt, hanging off the kids shoulders seductively. It almost made him want to climb back into bed with him, almost. 

Derek walked closer to the kid and his look of curiosity quickly turned to fear. Derek stuck out his hand and he watch the kid recoil in fear, almost as if he thought Derek was going to hit him. 

"Wha-what?" He studdered. The fear in his eyes made Derek feel like a monster. He pulled his hand back and rubbed his neck. 

"Christ, I just want my shirt." He sighed. He took another drag of his cigarette and watched the boy loosen up. 

"Oh," He muttered. He pulled the t-shirt over his head and handed it to Derek. He didn't let go once Derek grabbed it. Derek pulled it and shook the shirt in hopes of getting the boy to loose his grip, to no such avail. 

"Ple-please don't leave yet." The kid whispered, the look of fear in his eyes returning. Derek stood there for a second, unsure if he should just leave of stay with the boy. In the end, he took the latter. He put out his cigarette and with a sigh, collapsed onto the bed next to the boy. 

The boy smiled and turned his body to face Derek. He didn't say anything, but Derek could tell he was overly happy about Derek staying. 

"I can't stay for too much longer," He said, looking at the boy. God he looked so young, had he slept with a minor? Jesus, everything was going to shit.

"I know. I just want to talk to you, get to know you a little," The boy said. Derek watched the kid continuously wring his hands, he couldn't tell if it was out of nervousness or out of habit.

"Get to know me? Why, it's not like we'll ever see each other again." Derek grumbled. He reached over and grabbed another cigarette from the night stand. He put it in his mouth and lit it. The kid's face curled up in disgust. Good.

He looked down and began wringing his hands harder. "I know that too. It's just...I don't know. I'd feel better about the whole one-night stand thing if I did." His amber eyes looked up at Derek almost as if he was silently pleading him. 

Derek took another drag before grumbling "Fine". The kid's face lit up again, and he flopped down onto his stomach, his face propped up in his hands. 

"First things first, What's your name, cause I can't remember for the life of me. Come to think if it, I don't even think you told me your name!" He grinned like an idiot, making Derek roll his eyes. 

"Derek." He grumbled. The kid was now swinging his legs back and forth in the air like he was at a fucking sleep over. Fuck this. 

"My name, well, I hate my name, so you can just call me Stiles. Everyone does anyways." He still grinned up at Derek and Derek let out a snort. His fucking name was Stiles. Of course he'd pick someone with the dumbest name ever. 

Stiles was looking up at Derek as if he expected him to say something. But he didn't. It's not like he wanted to be here anyways. 

After a few minutes'Stiles', as he called himself, spoke up.

"Fine, since you won't talk, I will. What's your story? What brings you to little ol' Beacon Hills?" He stared at the kid, taking a long, deep drag of his cigarette. 

He hated smoking. He wanted to quit. The smoke burned his lungs and made his clothes smell, but the nicotine let him relax. It took away all the pain of the past couple months and his life in general. And when he blew the smoke out it was like he was blowing out all his troubles. It made him forget. 

He crushed the burnt out cigarette in the ash tray next to the bed. 

"Nothing," he muttered. "I'm just a drifter." He crossed his arms and stared at him. 

Stiles eyes became wide with intrest. 

"Ahh, a Vagabond, eh? I suppose you get to do a lot of sight-seeing with all the traveling you do." Derek just snorted. 

"I wish. The only sights I see are from my motel or from my car window and I drive by," He hissed. Goddamit, he needed another cigarette. At this rate he was going to need another pack. 

"Still," Stiles chirped. "You get to see the country. Explore. Your free to go where ever. Never stuck in towns like this." He looked off into the distance, as if he was contemplating it. As if he desired it.

Derek just snorted in disgust.

"It's not all cracked up to be. Your always on the move, never getting to take a break. It's lonely out there." He couldn't surpress his need any longer. He reached and grabbed the cigarette. His third in the last hour and a half. 

"So why don't you?" Stiles said. He looked at Derek as if he was stupid. Like the answer was right in front of him and he could just choose it.

"Why don't I what?" He said confused. He looked over at the clock, which read 2:17 AM. It was getting really late, and he needed some rest before he hit the road. 

"Why don't you stop? Why not find a spot and settle down, get a job, " He paused. His eyes flickered away from Derek's face and he began picking at an inivisble spot on the comforter. "Find someone who will make you happy?" 

Derek felt his face twist in confusion. Why did he think it was that simple? It wasn't. He didn't need some stupid kid telling him what to do and not to do.

"Fuck you. It's not that simple." He spat. Stiles eyes flickered to Derek quickly before he began picking at the spot again. He looked hurt and it made Derek want to comfort him, but he didn't. 

They sat like that in silence for a while. The tension was almost palpable. 

"I'm sorry." The boy whispered. "I know I may not look it, but I know how you feel. Everyone thinks things are easy, but they're not. You gotta make tough decisions. Sometimes you choose the right one, sometime you don't." The entire time he spoke he stared at the spot, eyes never moving. 

Derek took a drag of his cigarette, staring hard at Stiles. 

"Care to elaborate?" Derek said and he could see Stiles swallowing hard. He grinned at having made the boy uncomfortable.

"Um no really..." Stiles said. Started gripping the comforter. 

"Come on. You forced me to stay here. The least you can do is humor me for a little, huh?" He hissed and flicked the filter of his cigarette. Stiles began to blush profoundly and let out a small whimper.

"Um, well, I guess it wouldn't hurt." He spoke quietly. "Better to let it all out, huh?" He laughed, but it was forced and painful.

He swallowed hard again, and watched as Derek took a drag. 

"I had this boyfriend, I guess, we never really made it offically, but we lived together and the shabang. At first he was great, sweet and kind and loving." Stiles looked off dreamily as if he wished to be there instead of here with Derek in the dirty motel.

Derek didn't blame him really.

"But then," he continued, his face twisting in pain, anger, and sadness. "Then he started to getting into fights with my dad and my best friends. And of course I took his side, cause why not?" He gripped the comforter tightly and for a moment Derek thought he might rip it. 

"I was so stupid. I listened to him. And soon I was getting into fights with my dad and my best friends. And I didn't want to be around them, and they didn't want to be around me. He was all I had left. And it just got worse from there. H-he..." His voice trailed off and Stiles let out a sob and crumbled. He started sobbing into his hands. 

Derek felt guilty. He pressured him into telling him a story he obviously didn't want to talk about. And on top of it. He'd enjoyed it. 

Derek crushed the stump of his cigarette and reached across the bed to pull Stiles into his arms. 

"Hey, look, I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about this anymore if you don't want to." He stroked the boy's hair as Stiles sobbed, his tears wetting Derek's chest hair. After a minute, his sobs died down and he wiped his face.

"No, it's ok. I want to finish." He said. He took a deep sigh and began again. 

"He started arguing with me over everything. I couldn't do anything right in his eyes. No matter how hard I tried. An-and," took in a deep breathe to keep himself from crying again. 

"When he got really mad. He would hit me. I mean, it's not that hard to beat me up. I'm 147 lbs of skin and bones basically." He let out another laugh. It was forced and ended up in Stiles crying again. 

For some reason, seeing Stiles cry made Derek angry. Not at Stiles, but at the rest of the world. He wanted to punch something, most likely that douchebag boyfriend of his. He want to make everything right for Stiles, so he'd never cry again. 

Derek growled at those thoughts, where the fuck had they come from? He'd only met Stiles that night, and all of a sudden he wanted to protect him? What the fuck?

He hugged Stiles tighter as if it would help. But the scrawny boy still shook in his arms. Derek sighed.

"My family's all dead." He whispered. Stiles stared up at him. Eyes and face wet with salty tears. God, Derek wanted to kiss them away. Make it all better. 

All of it.

"What?" Stiles said. His amber eyes searched Derek's face for an explanation. 

"They died, and it was my fault." God, why was he telling him this? He never told anyone about this.  
"I, I met this woman, when I was young, about 18. She was older than me at the time. Then, then one day, she, she just burned them all alive. Locked them up and set fire to my house. They all died immediately. Except my uncle, he was severely burned, but he died a few months later. She was convinced they were werewolves. It was all my fault." He felt tears roll down his face. He couldn't remember the last time he cried. It felt good though. Like with each tear his pain was leaving his body, like the nicotine. 

He closed his eyes and let the tears roll. A few moments later, he felt a soft, moist sensation on his face, and when Derek opened his eyes Stiles was kissing away his tears. 

He sat there for a moment. With the scrawny kid in his lap and he didn't feel any pain. 

For the first time ever. 

And then, he laughed. It was soft and throaty at first. But then it grew becoming louder and heartier. He could hear Stiles laughing with him. His soft giggling. They made Derek want to kiss him. 

And he did. His lips felt perfect against his own. Soft and moist and sweet. 

Perfect.

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

This time, Derek remembered it. He remember kissing every inch of Stiles body. He remember finally pushing into his warmth and fucking him lazily. He remembered Stiles calling out his name when he came. He remember all of it. And it made saying goodbye harder. 

So he didn't. 

When he woke up he packed his stuff and left. No note. No number. He just left. It was too hard. 

And driving down the strip of highway to nowhere felt one hundred times harder than it had the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god. What have I done?!?! I hate angst, yet I wrote it. Oh god. I hope you guys enjoyed it!! I liked writing it a lot. Please leave comments and kudos they would make me very very happy! Love ya ( ^ω^ )


End file.
